Edward Gets a Cold
by Honeymoon Edward
Summary: Story Summary: This isn't just any cold — it's a man cold. Rating: M for excessive whining and possible exposure to germs. Pairing: ExB


_**AN:**_

**This was my contribution for the BatB fundraiser.**

_**Dedicated to Mr. Honeymoon Edward:**_

_**After suffering through twenty-five years of his bouts of 'Him-fluenza' and 'Dude-onic Plague,' I probably could have written a novel.**_

_**Much love to **_**SunFlower Fran, KJ Hawk, Ghostreader24, Gabby 1017, and AllTheWayIntoTwilight for their help with this story.**

_**Also, a special thanks to Beverly Beebee for giving the story a final read through. **_

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong solely to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.**

As she entered the staff lounge, Bree Tanner, the French teacher asked, "Does anyone want to run to the deli with me?"

"I'm in. Rosie's on a health kick. She's trying to lose her baby weight." Emmett studied the kale salad his wife prepared for his lunch and grimaced. "Teaching physics to the Weber twins works up a man's appetite."

"Way to be supportive," I deadpanned as I grabbed my sack lunch from the refrigerator.

He shrugged his shoulders. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her. Besides, I deserve a treat. I was up at three a.m. changing a wet diaper."

I shook my head in astonishment. "Jeez, Em. Maybe they should throw a parade in your honor."

Bree snickered. "Do you want anything, Bella?"

"No, thanks. I'm fine with my PB&J. Anyway, I want to get a head start on grading essays, so I'm not up all night."

I returned to my classroom and sat at my desk. After I doused my hands with a healthy dose of sanitizer, I pulled out my sandwich and retrieved my water bottle from my bag. "Here goes nothing," I thought as I logged into my classroom portal. I was so relieved when our school went one-to-one and provided every student with a laptop. Now, instead of toting stacks of papers back and forth between school and home, all I had to carry was my trusty MacBook. It was also nice not having to deal with mysterious substances that showed up on the work of some students. Ugh. In my three years of teaching, I've seen some nasty shit smeared across notebook paper. In fact, I used to keep a box of surgical gloves in my desk drawer for such cases. But, thankfully, those days are behind me.

I was busy grading my third literary analysis when I heard my cell ding, signaling a text. Ignoring it, I continued reading the essay and leaving comments. A few minutes later, the sound of my cell once again interrupted my thoughts.

Sighing, I reached inside my bag, retrieving my phone. There were three missed calls and two messages. All from Edward.

Unease filled me. It was unlike Edward to call or text during the day. Both of our jobs frowned upon cellphone use during business hours. Nervously, I read the messages.

_Bella? Are you there?_

_Call me when you get this. I don't want you to worry, but Eric is sending me home for the day._

My brow furrowed in confusion. Why would Edward's boss send him home? I called him back and anxiously waited for him to answer.

"Bella, thank God. I've been trying to reach you."

"Honey, what's wrong? Why is Eric sending you home?"

"I think I'm coming down with something. During the Volturi meeting, I sneezed three times."

"Are you running a fever? Do you have a sore throat?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time."

Part of me wanted to laugh—my husband left work because he sneezed a few times. But a more significant part wanted to sob because I knew the next three to four days of my life would mimic an episode of Grey's Anatomy.

_Minus the added perks of McDreamy and McSteamy._

As much as I adored my husband, he was verifiably the king of the man cold.

Not wanting to appear heartless, I mustered up all the empathy I could. "My poor guy. Take it easy and get some rest. I'll be home in a few hours."

"I'll try," he moaned then sniffled dramatically.

"I love you."

"Love you, too."

**-XXX-**

I balanced the grocery bag on my hip and opened the front door. "Edward? I'm home." After I set the bag and my keys on the entry table, I called again, "Honey?"

"In here," he said with a groan.

I entered the living room and discovered Edward stretched out on the sofa. He wore his work clothes and had his arm draped across his eyes.

"How are you doing?"

"Shoot me. Put me out of my misery." He made a loud, grunting sound and rolled over on his side.

Pressing my hand against his forehead, I checked to see if he had a temperature. "At least you don't feel warm."

He rubbed his neck. "Everything hurts, and my throat is scratchy."

I frowned. "Let me make you some soup. That will help."

"Homemade?" he asked with a hopeful gleam in his eye.

"I'm afraid not. But I got one of the expensive brands at the store on my way home. I thought we could splurge."

He pouted. "Mom always made homemade chicken noodle soup whenever I got sick."

I swallowed a growl. Edward usually knew better than to compare me with _that woman_, but whenever he didn't feel well, his inner mama's boy reared its ugly head.

"That may be true, but your mom also didn't work full time." Nor did she have essays to grade every evening, too. I kissed him gently on the cheek. "Why don't you go take a shower and change while I make dinner?"

Twenty minutes later, I carried a tray of food into the living room. Edward sat on the couch wearing a clean shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

"You look better. Did the shower help?"

He shook his head. "I felt lightheaded the entire time. I think I stood too long."

"Have you eaten anything today? Maybe you're weak from hunger."

"Perhaps. I forgot my lunch at work, so I swung by McDonald's and got a Big Mac and a shake. Other than that, and breakfast, I haven't eaten all day."

My lips twitched. "You must be famished." I handed him a bowl of soup. "Would you like some crackers?"

"Yeah," he said. "Do you mind breaking them up for me?"

"Sure." I crushed a handful of crackers into his bowl.

We had just begun eating when he sneezed loudly, covering his entire hand in mucus. He then wiped it off on his shirt.

"Edward! What are you doing?" I scolded. "That's disgusting."

"I'm out of tissues." He gestured to the empty box next to him. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Use your napkin or go to the bathroom," I snapped. No longer hungry, I set my dish down and stood from the couch. I took Edward's bowl and put it on the table beside him. "Take off your shirt."

Huffing, he removed it and flung it in my direction. "Here. I really don't understand what the big deal is."

"The big deal is you're an adult, and adults use tissues to wipe their dirty noses."

I went to the laundry room and placed the shirt in the hamper. Once I washed my hands, I got Edward a clean shirt, a new box of tissues, and a bottle of hand sanitizer.

When I came back into the living room, I squirted some sanitizer on his hands before giving him the shirt. "Here are more tissues."

He slipped it on and gave me a sheepish grin. "Thanks, sweetheart. I'm sorry about before."

Even though he acted like a whiny puddle of snot when he was ill, I had a difficult time staying angry with him. "It's okay; I know you feel bad. Do you want to watch something while I grade papers?"

"Yeah. Do you mind putting in my new movie? It's on top of the media cabinet."

"Sure. Do you need anything else?"

"No. I'm good."

Once the DVD started, I sat next to him and began grading. It seemed liked only moments later when Edward started moaning.

"Can you get me some ibuprofen?"

I checked to see if he felt warm. "You're not running a fever."

"But I feel so achy." He rubbed his arms.

I went to the kitchen to get the medication and a glass of water. When I returned, he scowled.

"Do we have any juice?"

"Yeah, we have apple and orange."

His lips thinned. "What about grape?"

I tilted my head. "Edward, you know good and well we don't have grape juice. You go grocery shopping with me every week."

He rubbed his jaw. "I know." His voice held a wistful tone. "It's just Mom always had it when we were growing up, and I remember how it always made me feel better."

I fought back the urge to tell him that maybe he should go back home and live with his mother, but I wouldn't wish that torture on my worst enemy. Esme Cullen was the mother-in-law from hell. So, I gritted my teeth instead. "Would you like me to go to the store and get some?"

"Nah, it's okay." He sniffled and blew his nose. "Unless you really don't mind."

Of course, I mind. But when his face took on a sad, puppy-dog expression, I knew there was no use fighting it. "Is there anything else you want while I'm out?" I asked as I put on a jacket.

"Just juice," he answered before coughing. His eyes widened as he rubbed his chest. "Oh, no. It must be moving into my lungs."

_Oh, no, indeed._

"Better add cough drops to the list." He coughed again. This time with a bit more intensity. "Get the cherry ones. You know, the good kind—not the ones that taste like medicine."

I knew which brand he was referring to; they were basically glorified candy. "Whatever you want, honey."

"Thanks, sweetheart. You're the best."

**-XXX-**

I was thankful to discover that Safeway was relatively empty. There was nothing worse than running into the parent of a student when you were out doing errands. Especially tonight, considering I had forgotten to put on a bra before I left home. Not wanting to take any chances, I rushed to get the juice and cough drops. On my way to the cash register, however, something caught my eye—the ice cream aisle. Deciding I needed a couple of cold survival supplies myself, I walked in that direction. When I noticed that Ben & Jerry's was on sale, I did a fist pump and got a pint. Since Edward and I were on a tight budget, I rarely treated myself to my favorite flavor, Chunky Monkey.

In the alcohol aisle, I searched for the cheapest bottle of wine I could find. An Australian brand was on special, so I grabbed two bottles. As long as it dulled the pain of listening to my husband bellyache, it could taste like kangaroo piss for all I cared.

I arrived home thirty minutes later. After I put the groceries away, I poured Edward a glass of grape juice and went into the living room. Once again, he was stretched out across the sofa, but this time, he was sound asleep. I set the glass down and nudged him awake. "Edward."

"Hmm?"

"You fell asleep. Why don't you go to bed?"

"That's a good idea." He stood and stretched. As he did so, a dozen tissues fell off his body, tumbling to the ground. Instead of picking them up, he walked over and attempted to kiss me on the lips.

I turned my head. "Edward! You'll get me sick."

He frowned. "Can I at least have a hug?" He opened his arms and waited for my response.

Knowing I would have to bathe myself in Lysol before the night was over anyhow, I gave him a quick embrace.

As he walked away, I picked up the glass of juice and said, "Here's your juice. Do you want to take it with you?"

He looked at it and scratched his stomach. "No. I changed my mind. I'll take apple instead. Do you mind bringing some to the bedroom?"

Visions of throwing the full glass of liquid at his head crossed my mind. Then, after thinking about how difficult it would be to get the grape stains out of the carpet, I took a deep breath and said, "Sure."

I placed the grape juice in the fridge and poured him a new glass of apple. I considered pouring myself a glass of wine, then thought what the hell. And after twisting off the cap, I took a huge swig straight from the wine bottle.

"Here's your apple juice," I announced as I entered the bedroom. Edward was lying in a fetal position, hacking. I set the glass on his bedside table. "I'll get your cough drops."

"Can you get a straw too? I'm so dizzy. I don't think I can lift the glass."

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if I could fetch his balls for him as well, but I reminded myself how much I love him, and that he usually didn't behave like a toddler.

I returned with the cough drops, which I had to unwrap for him due to his weakened state and placed the straw in his glass. Kissing his head, I said, "Get some rest. I need to grade a few more papers before I turn in."

I almost made it to the door when he said, "Bella, I can't reach my drink. Can you hold it for me?"

Pausing at the door, I closed my eyes and sighed. Turning around, I returned to his bedside. I kneeled on the floor and held the glass, guiding the straw into his mouth.

He took several pulls. "I'm done."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, burrowing under the covers.

"Do you need another cough drop?"

"Yeah, that's probably a good … a good …"

Not finishing his sentence, Edward sneezed all over my face.

"Oh, my God!" He exclaimed. "My snot …"

_Is all over me. Yes, I'm aware._

"Is yellow. Is that normal? Should I go to urgent care?"

I slowly stood and grabbed a handful of tissues and wiped off my face. Without answering, I went straight into the bathroom and undressed. I'm not sure how long I showered, but by the time I finished, there wasn't any hot water left, and my skin was bright red from how hard I had scrubbed it.

**-XXX-**

"Ninety-eight degrees." I put the thermometer down and walked to my closet to get my clothes for the day.

He ran a palm across his face. "What does that mean?"

"It means you don't have a fever," I said as I began dressing.

"Are you certain? But what about my snot?" He grabbed a tissue and blew his nose. "It's still so yellow. Look."

"Eww, Edward. I saw plenty of your snot last night when it was all over my face. I don't need to see it again."

"Do you think I have the bird flu? I ate a turkey sandwich for lunch last week."

"You don't have the bird flu, and you can't get it from eating deli meat." I slipped on my shoes then brushed my hair. "Anyway, you don't have the flu at all; you have a cold."

"Are you sure you can't stay at home? What if I take a turn for the worse?"

"Honey, I promise you'll be okay. I'll call and check on you during my lunch break. There's juice in the fridge and more soup in the cabinet." I kissed him on the head and tucked the blankets around his body. "Try to relax and get some rest."

**-XXX-**

"Hey, Bella. How's your day going?" Bree asked when I entered the teacher's lounge to get my lunch.

"Long," I replied as I rubbed my neck muscles. "I was up most of the night with Edward. He has a cold."

"Oh, dear. Last time Diego was sick, he stayed in bed for an entire week. An entire week!" She lifted her arms in the air to emphasize her point. "I had a cold as well, but still managed to work and take care of the kids."

I chuckled. "Edward thought he had the bird flu because he ate a turkey sandwich last week."

Bree laughed.

"Wow," Emmett said after taking a drink of his coconut water. "Your poor man is at death's door, and here you are mocking his pain. My heart goes out to my fallen brother." He took a bite of his salad and continued, "Anyhow, it's a proven fact that men suffer more than women when we're sick."

"Oh, please," Bree said with a scoff. "You don't know the first thing about suffering. Try being pregnant for nine months. It's like having a sumo wrestler use your bladder as a trampoline. We won't even talk about giving birth."

"Last time I checked, I don't have a vagina, so your argument is moot," Emmett retorted.

Bree glared at him then turned toward me. "Let me know if you need anything. Alcohol … an escape plan."

I snorted. "I got two bottles of wine last night, so I should be good. I'm going to call and check on him now. Let's hope he's over the worst of it and feeling better."

Bree lifted her bottle of water in comradeship. "Here's to hoping."

**-XXX-**

The phone rang three times, then it was answered by the last voice I expected to hear. One that caused spine-chilling terror to surge throughout my entire being.

Sweet baby Moses.

My mother-in-law was at my house. My mother-in-law who lived over two hours away from us.

"Hello?"

"Esme," I said, praying there was some mistake—like I had fallen asleep while I was eating my lunch and was having a nightmare.

She sighed into the receiver. "Yes, this is Esme Cullen. May I ask with whom I am speaking?"

_Oh, for fuck's sake._

I bit my tongue, then replied, "It's Bella."

"Bella, dear. I didn't recognize your voice. It sounds all raspy. Are you smoking again?"

I clutched the armrest of my chair, digging my nails into its vinyl fabric. I smoked one cigarette my entire life. _One._ However, Esme Cullen saw me smoke that one damn cigarette, and she's never let me forget about it. The ironic thing is, her daughter is the one who talked me into smoking that day, and she's still smoking six years later.

"Once again, I don't smoke. Can you please put Edward on the line?"

"Oh, I don't think that's a good idea. Edward needs to relax."

I gritted my teeth. Did she seriously tell me I couldn't speak with my husband?

"Is he asleep?"

"No, he's playing a video game." She laughed. "Probably that one he played in high school all the time with his friends. You know, the one about angels. What was the name of it?" She paused for a moment. "Oh, I remember now. Halo."

I rolled my eyes. My husband obviously fed his mother a line of bullshit when he was a teenager, but who could blame him? There's no way my harpy of a mother-in-law would have ever allowed her baby boy to play such a violent game. Getting back to the matter at hand, I said, "If he's playing video games, it doesn't sound like he's resting. Let me talk to him. I only have a few more minutes until my next class."

"Now, dear, we don't want him to strain his throat, especially by doing something silly like chit-chatting with you."

Before I could say anything else, the line went dead. Fury rippled through me as I realized what had happened.

She. Hung. Up. On. Me.

My vision clouded, and my jaw clenched as I slammed down my phone. Picking up my uneaten lunch, I threw it into the wastebasket then sat back at my desk.

Ugh! That woman could be so vile. Edward and I had specifically chosen to live in Port Angeles because it was a healthy distance away from his parents. Even though his father was a lovely man, his mother was the reason God gave us middle fingers.

Holding my head in my hands, I sighed. Now I had to put up with not only an ill husband but also my monster-in-law. But what I couldn't figure out is how in the world she knew Edward was sick in the first place.

**-XXX-**

When I arrived home after school, I found Edward lounging on the sofa watching television.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, not quite meeting my eyes. "You'll never guess who came for a visit."

I kicked off my heels and sat next to him. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea." Leaning over, I pressed a kiss to his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Before he responded, Esme's voice sounded from across the room. "Bella. I didn't know you were here. What on earth are you doing sitting so close to Edward? Are you trying to make him worse?" Walking toward us, she scowled in my direction. "That school you work at is nothing more than a giant Petri dish of germs. I can only imagine what you're exposing poor Edward to on a daily basis. The least you could do is wash your hands as soon as you get home."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Mom—" Edward protested.

"Pumpkin, you'll end up with pneumonia." She ruffled his hair. "Your wife should know better. In fact, she's probably the one who gave you this nasty bug to begin with. You've always had a weak immune system. She needs to be more conscientious about your health."

"Mom, you're not being fair. It's not Bella's fault I'm sick."

I gently squeezed Edward's arm and stood. "It's fine. I'll be right back."

Esme followed me to the kitchen and watched as I scrubbed my hands.

Once I finished drying them, I lifted them in front of her face and wiggled my fingers. "Look. All clean."

She pursed her lips and tsked. "Thank heaven for small favors. Oh, and dear, try to control your carnal urges; my son is in no condition for hanky-panky." She eyed my blouse and grimaced. "And quite frankly, I can't believe you would wear something so distasteful around impressionable children. I can practically see your brassiere."

I stared at the ceiling and exhaled. "For Pete's sake, Esme, lighten up. I kissed his forehead. It's not like I was dry-humping his leg." Then because she pissed me off, I lied to ruffle her feathers. "As for my blouse, I'm not sure how you can see my bra because I stopped wearing those years ago. You should try it; it's so liberating." Leaning toward her, I added, "And Edward loves the easy access."

Grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge, I poured a glass. Being the polite hostess that I am, I asked the she-devil if she wanted one as well.

She turned up her nose. "You know I don't partake in alcoholic beverages."

I shrugged my shoulders. "More for me." I left her standing in the kitchen with her mouth gaped open and returned to the living room.

"Is Mom still alive, or should I start digging a hole in the backyard?" Edward asked as he wiped his nose.

I smirked. "No need to get the shovel out just yet, but I'm under strict orders to control my sexual urges around you."

"Wh-what?" he sputtered before sneezing.

"Guess that forehead kiss I gave you earlier was too hot for Mama Cullen to handle. I also need to tone down my wardrobe. My boobs look slutty."

His eyes landed directly on my tits, and he licked his lips. "But I like your slutty boobs."

I lightly smacked him, but suddenly stopped when I noticed his feet, or more specifically, what he had on them. "Where in the hell did you get these?" I asked as I yanked off one of the furry monstrosities covering his toes.

"I bought them for him," Esme said, entering the room. "Aren't they cute? They're Batmobile slippers. Edward always wanted to be Batman when he was a little boy. I also got him a pack of Batman undies."

His cheeks turned as scarlet as his nose at his mother's words.

I ran a fingertip along his thigh and whispered in his ear, "Hmm. I may need to send out a Bat-Signal when you're feeling better. I have a kitty that needs saving."

He gulped and squirmed in his seat.

"Edward? Are you okay?" Esme asked. "You look feverish."

"I'm fine, Mom." He placed a pillow on his lap and shot a playful glare at me.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.

"I better take your temperature, just to be safe." Pulling out an old-fashioned thermometer from the pocket of the apron she had tied around her waist, she said, "Open up."

Edward sighed, opening his mouth.

Esme placed the thermometer under his tongue. "It's time for your medication." Grabbing her purse, she retrieved a bottle of pills.

"Wait," I said. "What are those?"

"Antibiotics."

"But I don't understand. When did Edward get a prescription for antibiotics?"

"He didn't," she said in a condescending tone. "These are left from one of my surgeries."

My eyes widened at her statement. "You can't give someone else your old prescription medication. He doesn't even need them, anyway. He only has a cold."

"I didn't realize you had a medical degree, Bella," Esme said sarcastically.

"And I didn't know you had one either."

"I don't need one, dear … I'm a mother. It comes naturally."

Edward removed the thermometer from his mouth. "Hey, guys, come on."

"Pumpkin! You took it out too soon." Turning in my direction, she said with a hiss, "Are you happy now?"

Picking up my glass of wine, I swallowed the remaining contents in one large gulp and stood. "Excuse me. I'm going to start dinner. Will you be staying, Esme? I know you have a long trip home. I can pack you a sandwich if you would prefer to leave now."

"Oh, don't trouble yourself," she replied. "I already made a batch of chicken noodle soup. It's in the crock-pot. I also whipped up some of my famous banana pudding." She gave me a smug grin.

_Of course, you did._

Attempting to be the bigger person, I swallowed my pride and thanked her. "Well, I guess you should go soon, so you're not driving while it's dark."

She wrinkled her nose. "I plan on staying all weekend, silly girl. Someone needs to take care of my son."

My hands trembled at her audacity. I opened my mouth to say something, but Edward beat me to it.

"Mom, thanks for your help today, but Bella will be home with me all weekend." He winked at me. "I'm in good hands; you don't need to worry. Anyway, who will take care of Dad while you're away?"

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "I suppose you're right. The man can't even boil water, but I'm more than happy to stay."

"We know and appreciate it," he said then coughed.

Esme frowned. "At least let me leave these." She set the antibiotics on the coffee table. "I don't like the sound of that cough."

Fifteen minutes later, she gathered her broomstick — I mean her belongings — and left.

As soon as the front door closed, Edward met my upset gaze and said, "I'm so sorry."

"How did she even know you were sick?"

He fidgeted with the pillow on his lap. "I called her in a moment of weakness. But in my defense, I was worried. I was on WebMD and thought I had almost every symptom associated with roseola."

"Roseola? Isn't that a childhood illness associated with a rash?"

"Yeah, but I didn't realize it at the time." He yanked his hair. "Bella, you have to understand. I thought I was dying."

"Edward." I sat beside him. "How many times have I told you … you're not allowed to self-diagnose on the internet? Remember what happened last time?"

"You know that was an honest mistake. My stomach hurt so badly, and the cramps were unbearable."

I couldn't help but smile at the memory. I could still recall getting the frantic call from Edward's co-worker.

_"Bella?"_

_"Yes. This is she."_

_"Hi, this is Mike Newton. I work with Edward."_

_"Oh, yes. I remember. Is everything okay?"_

_"No. I'm sorry. That's why I'm calling. I'm driving Edward to urgent care as we speak."_

_"Oh, my God! What happened?"_

_"He's sick to his stomach. Can you meet us there? I'm taking him to the one on Front Street."_

_"Of course! I'll be there as soon as possible."_

_By the time I arrived, the doctor was examining Edward. When he finished, he spoke with me in the hallway._

_"I have good news. Your husband doesn't have endometriosis." His lips twitched._

_"Huh?" My brow wrinkled in confusion. I must have misheard him._

_"It appears your husband self-diagnosed via WebMD before coming to the clinic and told the triage nurse he was suffering from a severe case of endometriosis."_

_I placed my hand across my face and groaned. Only Edward. "So I take it his uterus is healthy?" I deadpanned._

_The doctor smiled. "Yep. All clear. Looks like he's just a bit constipated. I wrote a script for some laxatives. He should be good as new in a day or so."_

"Well, I'm going to get us a bowl of your mother's homemade soup. We wouldn't want it to go to waste since I'm sure she slaughtered the chicken herself in order to make it."

He chuckled. "Bella, she's not that bad."

I crossed my arms against my chest. "Really_?"_

He raised his hands in defense. "Okay, maybe she is."

Before leaving the room, I grabbed the bottle of antibiotics. "And I'm disposing these in the trash." As I inspected the label, I cringed when I read the date. "Please tell me you didn't take any of these?"

"No. She tried to give me a dose earlier, but I fell asleep. Why?"

"Because they're from 2009–that's why."

Edward paled at my words. "Shit. What was she thinking?"

"Um, she wasn't. Now, I'm worried about your dad. We should go there one weekend and clean out the medicine cabinet."

"Yeah, that might not be such a bad idea."

As I walked to the kitchen, I called over my shoulder. "Actually, I just thought of an even better idea. Maybe you should go up there while I stay at home and relax. I think I've had enough of your mother for the rest of the year."

He sneezed then said, "Whatever you want, sweetheart."

"Damn straight," I mumbled.

**-XXX-**

"Bella?"

Tap.

"Bella?"

Tap.

Edward tapped my back once again. "Are you asleep?"

_I was._

"Huh?" I turned over and met his gaze. "What's wrong?"

"I feel worse."

I touched his cheek and noticed it felt warm. "Let's check your temperature." Placing the digital thermometer in his ear, I confirmed he had a fever.

"One hundred and two," I said, frowning. "Poor baby. Let me get you some medicine. I'll be right back."

I grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen and a tall glass of water then returned to the bedroom. "Here." I handed him two pills and the water. I went into the bathroom and got a cool, damp washcloth. Crawling back into bed, I sat against the headboard then placed his head on my lap. I dabbed his face with the cloth and ran my other hand through his hair. "Close your eyes, and try to get some sleep."

The next morning, I woke up in the same position. Edward's head remained on my lap. I gently pressed my fingertips along his forehead and was relieved to feel that his fever had broken.

A few minutes passed before his eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

"Good morning," he said. His voice was hoarse from his cold.

"No more fever."

He smiled. "I feel better than last night. Thank you for taking care of me."

"That's what I signed up for, right?" I teased. "How about a nice cup of tea and a bowl of oatmeal?"

"Sounds good. I think I'll take a shower first."

"Okay. I'll have it ready when you're finished."

**-XXX-**

Edward spent the day on the sofa while I attempted to do laundry and other household chores. I say attempted because whenever I started a task, my darling husband needed some type of assistance.

_Sweetheart, can you get me a soda?_

_Sweetheart, can you get my Star Trek blanket? The one with Spock on it, not Kirk._

_Sweetheart, is poop supposed to be green?_

_Sweetheart, do we have any more tissues?_

_Sweetheart, do you think this mole looks weird?_

_Sweetheart, can you scratch my back? I can't reach the spot._

_Sweetheart, I think I have a fever again._

_Sweetheart, are you sure I don't have a fever?_

_Sweetheart, have we updated our wills?_

_Sweetheart, is it an alligator that has a rounded snout or a crocodile? I can't remember._

_Sweetheart, can you look at my tonsils? I think I might have strep throat._

I was adding a load of wash into the dryer when Edward called from the living room. As much as I loved when he called me 'sweetheart' at this point, I never wanted to hear the term of endearment ever again.

"Sweetheart?" His voice rang louder.

"Coming!" I shouted as I turned on the machine.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I shuffled into the living room and gave him an incredulous look. "What?"

"I'm out of cough drops." He lifted the empty package then coughed as if to emphasize his point. "I'm also getting hungry."

"I'll heat some of your mom's soup."

He scrunched up his face. "I don't feel like soup. You know what I'm craving?"

"I have no idea," I sighed.

"Hot dogs."

"Hot dogs?" You've got to be kidding me.

"Yeah. From the Blue Moon Tavern."

"But I thought your throat hurt?"

"It's better now." He shrugged his shoulders.

I shook my head. He literally had me checking his tonsils less than thirty minutes ago, but now he's feeling better?

_It's a medical miracle. Someone call Dr. Oz._

It was pointless to argue with him, so I asked, "What kind do you want?"

"I'll take a Nacho Wiener, a Mac Daddy, and a Classic Chicago."

"And do you want anything else from the store other than cough drops?"

He tapped his chin. "Can you get some of those tissues that have lotion in them? These are kind of rough. Mom always buys the softer ones."

At the mention of his mother, my eye began twitching uncontrollably. Without responding, I turned to get my bag.

"Sweetheart?"

I forced a smile. "Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

**-XXX-**

I should have known better than to order food from a bar on a Saturday night. By the time Edward's hot dogs were ready, it was after eight p.m.

"Where have you been?" he asked when I arrived home. "I was starting to worry."

"The bar was busy," I said as I handed him the bag of food.

He pulled out the hot dogs and asked, "Didn't you get anything?"

"No, I bought some ice cream the other night. I'm having that for dinner."

Edward shifted nervously in his seat. "Um …"

And that's when I saw it.

The carton.

_The empty carton._

"You ate my Chunky Monkey!"

He raked a hand through his already messy hair. "I was hungry. I didn't realize—"

Grabbing a pillow from the sofa, I tossed it at his head. "What kind of heartless person eats his wife's Chunky Monkey!" I stomped around the room, pausing every few moments to glare at him.

"Jeez, sweetheart, don't you think you're overreacting just a tiny bit?"

Pointing my index finger in his direction, I said, "And that's another thing. Don't you dare call me that name ever again."

Edward's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What name? I'm so lost."

"You know what I'm talking about," I said with a growl. "_Sweetheart."_

"But why? Sweet … I mean, Bella, help me out here."

"Help you out? Help you out?" I laughed. "That's all I've been doing. For fuck's sake, Edward, you had me inspect your shit today. In all honesty, I'm surprised you were able to wipe your own ass."

He ran his palm along his jaw and exhaled. "God, I'm such a dick. I know I'm a huge baby when I'm sick, and you've been a complete angel. You even had to deal with my Antichrist of a mother."

As I noted the forlorn expression on my husband's face, guilt gnawed at me, and I wished I could take back my harsh words. Sitting next to him, I took his hand in mine and apologized. "I'm sorry about my conniption fit. It's not an excuse, but I'm tired, and I was looking forward to relaxing the rest of the evening with my Chunky Monkey."

Edward gave me a half-grin. "Hey, I know I've put on a few pounds since we got married, but I wouldn't go as far as saying I'm chunky."

"Aren't you the comedian." I rolled my eyes. "But seriously, I hope you'll forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive. I've taken advantage of your kind heart all day, and I'm pretty certain it's common knowledge that a husband should never touch his wife's ice cream. That was definitely an idiotic move on my part."

"Yeah. I agree."

He chuckled. "How about sharing these hot dogs with me, and tomorrow I'll go to Safeway and buy you an entire case of Chunky Monkey?"

"Do you feel well enough to go out?"

He nodded. "I think I'm over the worst of it."

"Then you have yourself a deal, but one pint is enough."

"Whatever you want … it's yours."

"In that case, while I'm eating my ice cream tomorrow, I'm going to need you to model those new Batman undies for me."

"That can definitely be arranged." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Do you think you'll be sending out a Bat-Signal?"

I bit my finger and pretended to think it over. "That's for me to know, and you to find out."

He leaned toward me, studying my lips. "Can I kiss you now?"

"Just a peck."

A moment before our lips met, my nose suddenly twitched, and I sneezed all over Edward's face.

My mouth dropped open as I watched him wipe off his skin with a tissue.

"Honey—"

He lifted his hand and gave me a tender smile. "Go take a hot shower, and I'll make you some soup. It looks like it's my turn to take care of you."

**The End**


End file.
